


Sickly Dreams

by CorsetJinx



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8199628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: Sickness is rampant in Yharnam but it seems reluctant to stay within the body where it might be contained. She doesn’t think the blood harvested from the Hunt can help.





	

Impact from the Cleric Beast’s swipe flattens her to the bridge - what she expects to happen doesn’t immediately occur and it distracts her from the precious moments she has left of consciousness. Shock drives a wedge between her and the pain that should be there, but she cannot move - cannot do anything but lay broken and bleeding against the cobblestones.

If it is the Messengers that drag her back to the Dream, she doesn’t see them. Her mind is full of hazy cloud that colors her thoughts red. It feels cloying, shrouding her senses.

Thalia can feel something underneath her, hard and unmoving. Something rustles and she tries to jerk back from the hands that touch her.

_She can feel it, the heat and the bile and the wrongness in her body - it moves and it feels as though it will consume her and her child._

_Her child, her child hasn’t moved she can’t feel anything besides heat and rot - something is wrong._

“Good Hunter, be at peace.”

Plain Doll’s cool hands keep her from thrashing, gentle enough that she doesn’t perceive the contact as harmful. The pale lady is surprisingly strong, however. She helps Thalia sit up once the crack in her mind’s delusion widens enough for her to see the foliage-laden path to the Hunter’s workshop rather than the darkened room where physicians had -

“I don’t think peace is something that comes naturally to this place, Doll.” Thalia croaks. She’s surprised she can breathe at all, let alone speak. The thumping in her chest confirms what should be impossible, that the Cleric Beast did not smash the life from her body even though she has the clear memory of it.

Doll doesn’t miss a beat. Her head tilts, yes, and the stare in her pale eyes might be unnerving to one unused to it - but her ball-jointed hands are steady and gentle as she supports Thalia’s body in her lap.

“You are safe here, dear Hunter.”

Thalia almost wants to laugh at that - the concept of safety being tied to a place that seems like it should be a fever dream rather than a refuge. But there’s truth to the words. No beasts prowl the workshop, no townsfolk brandish meager weapons. She does not hear the scream of the Cleric Beast echoing through the air.

Reaching up, she closes one hand around the Doll’s and gives it a brief squeeze.

“Thank you, Doll.” Thalia pauses, testing the responsiveness of her extremities by wiggling her toes in her boots. They move just fine, thankfully.

“I think I may be ready to stand up.”

“As you wish, good Hunter.” Doll moves away, allowing her to pick herself up off the ground and brush bits of grass that cling to her clothes.

A glove comes away bloody and the smell hits her unprotected nose like a blow from a club.

Her mask had been pulled down at some point - the Doll’s work possibly, when she’d been insensible with shock and pain.

Lifting her gaze, Thalia meets the Doll’s eye and quirks one side of her mouth.

“I believe I lost the Blood Echoes I’d intended to bring. Would you be averse to checking for me?” Extending her hand, she waited.

Doll took it without hesitation, kneeling as she seemed wont to do for this process.

“Allow me to heal your sickly spirit, brave Hunter.” Doll murmured, eyes slowly shutting as she concentrated.

_If only you could_ , Thalia thought.


End file.
